


The Elves’ New Year

by starlightwalking



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Celebrations, Dancing and Singing, Fluff, Gen, Holidays, Innumerable Stars 2020, Pre-Canon, Rhubarb Pie, Sweet Bread, Traditions, Young Bilbo Baggins, dandelion wine, star symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: “Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars, not if you care for such things.” Nor is it something to miss in April, when the Elves observe Yestarë - and this year, Bilbo Baggins wants to take part in the celebrations himself.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Elf | Elves, Bilbo Baggins & Original Elf Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11
Collections: Innumerable Stars 2020





	The Elves’ New Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainforezt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainforezt/gifts).



> I went off at once to have a look at Bilbo, to see what twenty years had done to him, and whether he was as promising as gossip seemed to make out. But he was not at home. They shook their heads in Hobbiton when I asked after him. ‘Off again,’ said one Hobbit. It was Holman, the gardener, I believe. ‘Off again. He’ll go right off one of these days, if he isn’t careful. Why, I asked him where he was going, and when he would be back, and _I don’t know,_ he says; and then he looks at me queerly. **_It depends if I meet any, Holman,_ he says. _It’s the Elves’ New Year tomorrow!_** A pity, and him so kind a body. You wouldn’t find a better from the Downs to the River.’  
> — _Unfinished Tales_ , “The Quest for Erebor”

The sun was setting and Bilbo’s feet were growing tired by the time he at last heard the beautiful sound of Elvish singing. He could have clapped for joy, but he was carrying a basket full of rhubarb pie and did not wish to drop it. He feared also that being too loud would frighten the Elves away, which he truly could not bear the thought of, not after having spent so long looking for someone with whom to celebrate the Elves’ New Year.

On quiet Hobbit feet, he crept toward the source of the song. Peering carefully through a patch of blackberry bushes, the branches fruitless so early in the season but the thorns still sharp and bothersome, he caught a glimpse of a clearing where two Elves sang and danced. A third sat on the ground with a smile, playing a cheerful ditty on a lute.

Suddenly overcome with nerves, Bilbo hesitated. He’d met an Elf once before, when he was very young and one of his mother’s adventuring friends had passed through the Shire, but though his whole endeavor today was to meet some of these Big Folk he suddenly worried they would find him strange or not wish for his company. Who was he to intrude upon their holiday gathering? He’d been remarkably Tookish in setting out on this venture at all, but the practical Baggins inside him now scolded him for such an outlandish idea.

And yet, the Tookish part of him argued, he’d already come all this way, and it was a half day’s journey back to Hobbiton—he wouldn’t make it before nightfall. If he left now, having found what he sought, he knew he’d regret his shyness later.

Still agonizing over whether or not to reveal himself, Bilbo’s decision was soon made for him. A blackberry leaf brushed his nose and he sneezed loudly. Oh, if only he’d brought his handkerchief!

The music ceased, and a melodic voice called out, “Who goes there?”

Sheepishly, Bilbo stepped out from behind the bushes, his nose twitching and his cheeks flushed red. “M-my apologies,” he stammered. “I just—I heard your song and—and it’s your New Year, isn’t it, and—I have pie!” He offered them his basket. “If, if you wouldn’t mind me joining you, that is...”

The tallest of the Elves laughed. It was she who had spoken, but her voice was gentle now as she beckoned Bilbo forward. “Of course you may join us, Perian! I have a friend of your kind, though I have not seen her in years, and I know you are a jolly folk who love to celebrate. Thank you for the pie, and for your company on this blessed Yestarë!”

She introduced herself as Lammoriel, and her companions as Tailor and “young Anwarion.” Anwarion, who looked the same to Bilbo as the other ageless Elves, grabbed a slice of pie with his bare hands and made sounds of delight as he ate. Perhaps it was manners that distinguished the ages of Elven-folk?

“Baggins!” cried Lammoriel when she heard his name. “Why, my friend is a Baggins also! Hmm, or she is now, I think she was once a Took. Do you know her? Belladonna?”

Bilbo stared at her, gobsmacked. “Why, yes I do!” he exclaimed. “Belladonna Baggins was my mother!”

“Was?” inquired Tailor gently, and Bilbo sighed.

“I am sorry to be the bearer of ill news,” he said, not meeting Lammoriel’s eye, “but yes, it is true. My mother—both my parents, in fact—passed away not too long ago.”

Lammoriel’s smile crumpled into a frown. “Ai, such is the grief of mortality. All those Edhil who find friendship in Dwarves or Men or Periannath know this day, eventually.” But then she took Bilbo’s hands and pulled him up to his feet. “But she lives on in you, her son! Bilbo Baggins, tonight we celebrate the coming of spring, a new year, and the stars that guide us and our ancestors! Let us celebrate your ancestors, also!”

“Try the dandelion wine,” Anwarion offered, and how could Bilbo turn down Elvish wine? He tried also the sweet bread Tailor said was called _ethilbas_ , which tasted like spring itself, though he knew not how or why.

“We only make _ethilbas_ for Yestarë,” Tailor explained. “It is our spring-bread, a tradition spanning centuries, at least.”

“And you are the first Perian I know of who’s eaten it,” Lammoriel added.

“You’re the first Perian I know!” Anwarion joked. “Bilbo, would you allow me to teach you the _elenlilla_? It is the Dance of the Stars, and we dance it each Yestarë as Gil-Estel passes overhead.”

“The Evening Star?” Bilbo guessed, for there was only one star in the sky that moved.

“We call it the Star of High Hope,” Lammoriel said. “The dance is not easy, Bilbo Baggins, but I believe you shall learn it quickly.”

“And do not feel bad if you don’t,” Anwarion said. “This shall be my three hundreth Yestarë, and the two hundred and fiftieth time dancing the _elenlilla_ , and still I miss the steps sometimes!”

“Three hundred!” Bilbo exclaimed. “And that is _young_ for you?”

Lammoriel and Tailor laughed, while Anwarion only sighed and shook his head mournfully.

“Edhil are immortal, unlike your kind,” Tailor said. “I am nearing my two thousandth year, and Lammoriel was born in the Second Age.”

Bilbo stared at the Elves in awe, but Anwarion offered his hand and smiled. “Don’t be overwhelmed,” he said kindly. “In these days we are a quiet folk, if we can help it. Our lives may be long, but they are not particularly exciting.”

“Except on holidays!” Lammoriel said, and nudged Tailor with her foot. “Come now, Tailor, play the star-song for us so we may dance!”

Tailor obliged, plucking a slower tune upon the lute, and soon Anwarion pulled Bilbo into an intricate dance. He stumbled over his own feet quite often, but Anwarion’s laugh was without guile, and after a few rounds he got the hang of the dance. Lammoriel joined in not long after, her movements much smoother, and Bilbo gaped in awe at the wondrous sight she made.

By now night had long since come, and the stars shone bright up ahead. Midnight was approaching, and it was too dark for Bilbo to see without a fire. He was too polite to mention it, but Tailor caught his eye and mentioned to Lammoriel that perhaps it was time to light the lanterns.

“This is another Yestarë tradition,” Lammoriel explained, handing a paper lantern to them each. “We light lanterns to welcome the new year, and guard them against evil. The guarding is not truly important anymore, but it is symbolic, for in darker times light was not so safe as it is now.”

Anwarion struck a fire on a small torch and lit his lantern, then passed the flame to Lammoriel. When she was done, Bilbo reverently took the torch and lit his own light, awed by the way the flames danced and seemed to reflect starlight. It was much like the _elenlilla_ , he realized.

“Soon Gil-Estel will rise!” Tailor said. “Come, now is the time for the _elenlilla_!”

“Join us, Bilbo,” Anwarion said, and Bilbo took his hand and one of Lammoriel’s, and danced as Tailor played the star-song once more.

“Look!” cried Lammoriel, not ceasing in her dance. “In the heavens above—Gil-Estel!”

“Gil-Estel!” echoed Anwarion and Tailor, and Bilbo murmured the Elvish words only a beat behind them.

“So this is the Elves’ New Year,” he said to himself when the dancing ceased and the Elves gathered around the lanterns to finish off the food and wine and _ethilbas_. “What a celebration!”

“I am passing into the West,” Tailor said softly, “or I would invite you to celebrate with us again, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo looked to Anwarion and Lammoriel. “Are you...passing also?” He did not quite understand the phrase, but there was a melancholy look in Tailor’s eyes that made it seem akin to dying.

“Not yet,” said Lammoriel wistfully, looking up to where the Evening Star began to disappear into the night. “No, there are mortals I love who yet live. But as your mother did, they must age and die, and when they are all gone I will go West also.”

“I will not go,” Anwarion said. “I am young and love Middle-earth too well to depart. I came here to celebrate with my dear friend Tailor, who is leaving, and Lammoriel my aunt, who lives not in Rivendell as I do. But I will return alone.”

Bilbo nodded solemnly. He, too, would return to Bag End alone.

Tailor took up another song, then: a melancholy melody in the Elvish tongue, and Bilbo soon found his eyelids drooping.

“Sleep, Bilbo Baggins,” Lammoriel said tenderly. “We will watch over you. It is an honor to have met you, child of Belladonna.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, because though he might be a Took who attended Elvish parties, he was also a Baggins who would never forget his manners. “It has been a splendid evening...”

He laid his head upon the grass and fell asleep quicker than he had in months, and his dreams were full of peace and starlight.

* * *

When he woke the next morning, the Elves were gone, as if they had never been there in the first place. Bilbo sat up and rubbed his eyes, taking in the glorious dawn with some confusion.

Had he dreamt the Yestarë celebration? Not a trace of Tailor’s lute or Anwarion’s footsteps or Lammoriel’s laughter reamined. Perhaps Holman was right, and he was a little queer in the head...

But the pie dish in his basket was empty save for a few crumbs, and beside it was a small flask of dandelion wine. Bilbo smiled, taking a sip of the Elvish drink, and his heart lifted. He knew not the words of the star-song, but the steps of the _elenlilla_ were heavy in his feet, and he danced it one more time before setting out for the Shire.

He knew not if he would see his Elvish acquaintances around these parts again, but he hoped so—or that he would visit Rivendell, someday, the place where Anwarion lived, and make even more Elven friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Perian = Sindarin (S.) for “Hobbit” (pl. Periannath)  
> Edhil = S. for “Elves” (singular Edhel); Eldar is the Quenya (Q.) term  
> Yestarë = Q. for “beginning day”; there is no S. form. Likely adopted from Q. to S. in a place like Rivendell, where Elves of varied heritages live.  
> Gil-Estel = “Star of High Hope”; research Eärendil for more info
> 
> Sindarin words cobbled together by myself:  
>  _ethilbas_ , from S. “ethuil” (spring) and “bass” (bread)  
>  _elenlilla_ , from S. “elen” (star) and “lilla” (dance)
> 
> Names, from [RealElvish.net](https://realelvish.net):  
> Lammoriel (echo daughter) - she makes an appearance in another fic I wrote, [Not Like Most Folk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25625614), where she meets Belladonna!  
> Anwarion (son of wonder)  
> Tailor (player)
> 
> Thanks to the folks on the Russingon Discord for helping me with holiday traditions!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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